


there is nothing but this

by annejumps



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Chess, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Mansion Fic, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Smitten Erik, Telepathic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:06:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles kept coming to Erik's room at night. Erik made him wait... at least a little bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there is nothing but this

Erik knew why Charles came to his room at night.

The first night it had happened, the first night they were all there, the mansion had been quiet for at least an hour when Erik heard a rapping on his door. He was in bed, with a book, and dismissed the idea of answering it himself. Whoever it was would have to go to the trouble of opening it. “Come in,” he called.

Opening the door was Charles, still dressed for the day. He walked in, putting his hands in his pockets after shutting the door, and smiled at Erik. 

“Yes?” Erik prompted, eyebrows raised, thumb marking his place in the book.

“Just wanted to see how you were settling in,” Charles said. 

Erik glanced at the clock; it was half past ten. Not too late, but enough to pique his curiosity as to the purpose of Charles’ visit.

“Quite well, thank you,” he simply said.

Charles beamed. “I’m so glad to hear it. I do hope you’re comfortable here.”

“Yes, it’s lovely.” It was true. For all the mansion had a neglected air, and Erik had the feeling Charles’ memories of his childhood here were not exactly happy ones -- for a given value of unhappy -- it was still a mansion, and the bed was comfortable. The room itself was quiet and well appointed, with many books to peruse. There were lamps and candlesticks and other sundries Erik could entertain himself with by raising and moving them about the room. All in all, he had no complaints.

“Was there anything else?” Erik asked after Charles continued looking at him, smiling.

“Well, actually….” Charles said, looking bashful, “I wanted to see if you wanted to play chess.” He cocked a brow.

When they were at the CIA compound, Charles had found a chess set and taken it to his quarters. The pieces were made of metal, which Erik had found appealing. Moreover, Charles had been feeling a need for company -- Erik had assumed he’d found such with Moira, but evidently this was not the case -- and was all too happy to have Erik play chess with him. They had only played a few games, but it was pleasant enough, and Erik didn’t object to the chance to be the center of Charles’ attention.

Erik considered. “Certainly. I wasn’t planning to sleep for a while yet.”

Charles looked pleased. Erik put aside his book. “Did you bring the set?” Obviously Charles hadn’t. His set was the family’s, unfortunately not made of metal. They’d played once since they’d arrived, one rainy afternoon when it wasn’t suitable weather for running. 

Charles shook his head. “I thought you might come back with me.”

“All right.” Erik got out of bed and put on his red silk robe over his black silk pajamas, and put on his slippers. He followed Charles to his study. 

Charles poured scotch for them and they sat before the fire. Erik was aware of Charles shooting him significant looks, but he concentrated on the game. He did not sense Charles trying to break into his thoughts. They discussed science, philosophy, and the mutants they’d brought with them.

They’d developed a certain level of companionable familiarity on their trips to track down those mutants. Charles always booked adjacent rooms for himself and Erik, the recruit in tow taking the bed while Charles took the cot, and after the new kid had fallen asleep, Charles would come to his room, just to talk. Yes, Charles had fallen asleep with his head on Erik’s shoulder a time or two. Anyone else wouldn’t have had the chance to do so to begin with, but with Charles Erik didn’t mind. He let Charles sleep. Unconscious, Charles’ shields became somewhat more permeable and he emanated a feeling of contentment while there with Erik. If there was no need to disturb that, why wake him? Charles needed the rest. His powers took a lot out of him.

Still, though, Erik wasn’t stupid.

After a few glasses, several games, and many looks from Charles, Erik excused himself back to bed, saying he was too tired to present a proper opponent. Charles sighed, smiling. 

“Yes, get your rest for tomorrow’s training.” He stood. “I’ll see you back to your room.”

“Don’t be silly,” Erik said with a wave, standing. “Good night, Charles.” He smiled.

Charles’ smile widened. “Good night, Erik.”

\-------

The next night, before turning in, Erik wandered the halls, idly balancing ball bearings in the air above his palm, in the dark as he walked. It was quiet, with everyone having gone to bed. His footsteps were soft enough, but Charles’ door was cracked open, and one way or another, Charles sensed him. He came to the doorway. “Good evening, Erik. Won’t you come in?” 

He leaned against the doorjamb, expression heavy with meaning. Still no pressing of Charles’ mind on his own, no weighting the odds with his advantages. Erik was free to decide, and it must be driving Charles mad. Grinning to himself, Erik nodded, and entered Charles’ chambers.

They settled in for another game in the study. Erik let his ball bearings float about for a while until he grew bored with keeping track of them, at which point he set them in a neat row on an end table. Charles watched them and smiled.

Charles mused on the various improvements made by their mutant students, and the discussions he’d had with them throughout the day. Erik listened politely. It was interesting enough, Erik supposed, and Charles so loved nurturing and teaching that it was acceptable to indulge his talking about it. 

“And you,” Charles said, taking him a bit by surprise, “how are you doing?”

“I’m well,” Erik said, looking back down at the board. 

“Good.”

Erik glanced up again to meet that gaze, regarding him with such admiration and interest. He looked down again, and returned his attention to the game.

\-------

The next night, Charles came to his room. 

“The students made wonderful progress today,” he said softly, standing in the doorway, which Erik had left slightly open.

“I don’t doubt it. Come in,” Erik said. He was in bed, his lamp on but the light in the room low. He set his book aside.

Charles closed the door, toed off his shoes and sat down on the bed, swinging his legs up alongside Erik, albeit over the covers. Erik hid his surprise. It was like the days when they’d been on the road.

“So. The progress,” Erik said.

As he got increasingly wrapped up in his verbal analysis of the day’s work, Charles shifted his weight to lean against Erik, and then more heavily, making himself more comfortable. 

At one point, Charles paused to yawn. “Excuse me -- oh, I ought to get back to bed, I’ve been a terrible imposition,” he said, moving to sit up.

“Don’t be silly, Charles,” Erik said. “You can stay here.”

Charles regarded him.

“Come on, get that jacket off and get under the covers. It’s late.”

Charles stood, taking off his tweed jacket and putting it over the back of a chair. He remained standing, silent, looking at Erik, practically vibrating with the effort of restraining himself.

Erik sighed, amused. “Indirectness isn’t a good look on you, Charles. If you want me, take me.”

Charles’ ears went pink. He shucked off his trousers and began unbuttoning his dress shirt. Erik threw back the covers and watched him.

“That’s not how I wanted to go about it,” Charles said, voice low and urgent. “I wanted to be sure. I didn’t want to influence you in any way.”

“Yes, very noble, but that’s not what I meant.”

Charles’ shirt floated to the floor. He was wearing a thin white undershirt and thin white boxer shorts. His frame had a certain muscularity to it, a stocky power, especially in his thighs and upper arms; he must have played sports at Oxford. 

Erik realized Charles was speaking again. “You have tells,” he was saying.

Erik raised his eyebrows. “I have tells?” That was something, coming from Charles.

“You do. I feel your eyes on me. It’s like a physical touch.” He paused. “But it’s not enough.”

Erik sighed and reached for him. “Come here, Charles.”

Charles knelt on the bed and bridged himself over Erik, who pulled Charles down to him for a kiss.

As Charles’ lips met his, Erik thrust his fingers into Charles’ thick hair. Charles made a sound at that, and crushed his mouth, that red mouth, against Erik’s. Erik opened for him easily, and Charles plundered him. Erik’s other hand slid absently down Charles’ back, to the small of it, and Charles arched restlessly. In response, Erik rocked his hips up against him, drawing a gasp. 

Charles broke the kiss, blinking, heavy lidded, eyes luminous in the low light. His mouth was brilliantly red. “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,” he said, voice rough. He licked his lips, as if tasting Erik, and Erik drew him back again by his hair, kissing him fiercely. 

When he next pulled back, Erik gasped despite himself. He’d always thought Charles had objectively beautiful eyes, clear blue and expressive, but they’d gone dark with lust and intent, and the effect was like a jolt directly to his cock. His grip loosened on Charles’ hair.

Charles was breathing hard; he shook his head slightly as if to clear it, sat up, and cut off Erik’s beginning to voice an objection by stripping off his undershirt, and nimbly getting out of his shorts, and socks. Charles’ skin was smooth and perfect, pale as cream and dusted with freckles. There wasn’t a scar on him. He was almost shaking with eagerness, sitting on his heels next to Erik, facing him. He carded his fingers through his hair.

Erik wrapped a hand around Charles’ erection and felt him jolt all over at the touch. Charles closed his eyes and inhaled, tilting his head back slightly, and huffed out a laugh.

“What’s funny?” Erik murmured, giving Charles a squeeze, a slow stroke.

Charles gasped, opening his eyes. “God. I…. I’m sorry, Erik, but I need to take the edge off. I’ve been in rather a state….” He trailed off as Erik’s thumb slid over the tip of his cock.

“Charles.” Erik clucked his tongue. “You have only to say the word.”

“Please, then,” Charles said. 

Erik could have gone on teasing, and briefly considered it. But Charles Xavier naked before him, his cock hot and hard in Erik’s palm, saying “please” in that shaking, low voice with his eyes as dark as the sea at night was enough. 

Nevermind that Charles should never have to ask or beg anyone for anything.

Erik kept stroking him, and watched him unravel. The muscles in his abdomen twitched; he started flexing his hips to thrust into Erik’s hand. A light flush appeared and spread across his chest; his nipples pebbled. He bit his lip, gripping the sheets in tight fists, his brow deeply furrowed. 

The presence of Charles’ foreskin made this easy indeed. He leaked onto Erik’s fingers, and Erik resisted the urge to pause and taste him. Instead, he tightened his grip, and went faster.

With the pace thus ramped up, a panting Charles summarily rocketed toward what appeared to be a fantastic peak, one for which he actually dropped his shield for a moment in response to a combination of surprise and an enviably intense orgasm. Erik glimpsed a bolt of feeling from Charles like a blinding flash of gold, erupting and sparkling. The sensation was immediately followed by a jolt of alarm, lest Charles wake the entire house with his broadcast; and the shield was back, Charles blinking at him, face touched with pink. The hollow of his throat was slick with sweat.

“Sorry,” he gasped, wrecked.

“Never apologize,” Erik said, hastily wiping his hand on Charles’ stomach with the rest of the come, pulling Charles toward him as he looked to be on the verge of collapse.

Charles stretched out on his stomach, catching his breath, half on Erik, little shudders still running through him. His skin was hot and damp; Erik stroked his fingers over his smooth back. Charles hummed with pleasure, low in his chest. 

Erik was quite sure he’d never been this hard in his life.

Even so, he couldn’t help teasing. “So it’s true, what they say about English schoolboys.”

“True enough,” Charles laughed. But after a few breaths, his amusement subsided. “My contemporaries -- I could feel how much they hated themselves for it, how much they hated me.” He sighed. “Rather took the enjoyment out of it, all things considered.” 

He turned to look at Erik. “You don’t hate yourself. You don’t hate me, you don’t apologize.”

“I don’t apologize for anything about myself,” Erik said. “Certainly not that.”

“Good,” Charles said, smiling, shifting to kiss Erik’s brow. Even without Charles actually sending him any thoughts, Erik could sense how contented he now was, as if a great weight was off his shoulders.

Erik’s thoughts stubbornly returned to the foolish, idiotic, ungrateful boys on whom Charles had wasted his attentions. “You said you sensed their thoughts. Did you use your powers on them?” Erik asked. 

“Who? Oh. Well. They made their feelings clear enough without much need of my telepathy.” His chuckle was small. “As for controlling them, I thought about it. I could have.” Charles sighed. “I could have made them worship me.” He smiled, bitter. A candlestick across the room toppled over; they both ignored it.

“Why not, if you could have? What’s the harm? They came to you willingly, they would have enjoyed it and not known any better. You could have erased their memories afterward, if you felt like showing them mercy.”

“Erik, it’s a grievous violation of trust, of the social contract.” Charles looked genuinely appalled, which only caused Erik’s irritation to spike. Charles looked away, and added, in a mutter, “Besides, it wouldn’t have been real.”

Erik scoffed. “In order for such feelings to be, as you say, real,” he said, “the person in question would have to know you were a telepath, would they not? For this authenticity you crave? Do you really think a non-mutant knowing that about you could accept you, love you -- as your own kind does? Charles. They’d be terrified of you.”

Erik half expected Charles to get up, naked with his own drying come on his stomach, from his bed and leave. But Charles just smiled, and settled in against him. “You’re not terrified of me.”

“I am a little,” Erik admitted. “Anyone with sense should be, mutant or human.” Erik stroked his fingers through Charles’ slightly sweat-damp hair, contemplating the vast power just under his hand. Charles could easily rule the world, if he wanted. “But mutants -- mutants at least understand, Charles.”

“Do they?” Charles asked, turning to meet Erik’s gaze. Before Erik could ask what exactly that meant, Charles turned farther and kissed him. “Don’t let’s argue,” he murmured. 

“But I’m so good at it,” Erik said, unable to resist grinning.

“Not when we could be doing other things,” Charles continued, hand moving down Erik’s chest. “We’ve only just started.”

“I’m good at other things,” Erik conceded, inhaling sharply at the feel of Charles’ hand. “And you have been neglecting me.”

“You’re still wearing clothes,” Charles pointed out in disapproval. 

Erik sat up to shed his undershirt, and his only other item of clothing, his silk pajama trousers. 

“Jesus Christ,” Charles said baldly. Startled by the uncharacteristic blasphemy, Erik looked over at him. Charles was looking at his cock, stunned, mouth open a bit.

“Oh, yes,” Erik said, understanding.

“That must be a quarter of your bodyweight,” Charles said, still staring. Erik barked out a laugh. “Sorry! Sorry. My God.” He slid the point of his tongue along the seam of his lips. “I had an idea, but the reality…. May I?”

“Have at it,” Erik said, voice suddenly tight with anticipation.

“I think-- Sit up and put your legs over the side of the bed, I’m better on my knees,” Charles decided, and blinking, Erik did as instructed. Before his mind could fully catch up, Charles was there kneeling on the floor, wrapping a hand around him and then taking him in. 

Charles hummed, pleased, and Erik felt it all through his body, shoulders sagging for a moment, fingers tightening over the edge of the mattress. Charles took him in surprisingly deep, and reflexively, Erik’s hand went to his hair. He drew off, slow, lips tight, looking slyly up at Erik, running his tongue around the tip of Erik’s cock before taking him in again. 

Charles bore Erik’s pulling his hair with good grace, even tilting into it at times, possibly even enjoying it; regardless, his enthusiasm seemed undimmed. He made a lovely picture on his knees, naked and flushed, occasionally closing his eyes to concentrate. 

Charles paused at one point, letting Erik’s cock slip out of his mouth, and looked up at Erik. His lips were a bit swollen. “May I try something?” he asked, a little breathless. “Granted, I’ve never done this before. Never had the opportunity. Not like this, anyway.”

Erik raised his eyebrows.

“It’s related to my ability,” Charles added hastily. “Well. Let me just show you. If I may.”

“Please do.”

“I have a theory….” Charles took him in again, slowly, and as he did he moved his fingers to his temple, pressing them there. Erik sensed Charles’ mind sliding and flowing into his own, and it felt oddly like warm flood waters in a spring rain -- rising over the bank, tumbling down a wall. He shivered.

 _Hello_ , Charles purred in Erik’s mind, as he drew off. His tongue rubbed vigorously at the underside of Erik’s cock, with particular attention to the head. Charles sent him the sense of making a note of how Erik shuddered at that. That was followed with a sense of how much Charles was enjoying this.

 _I want to make you come harder than you’ve ever come in your life_ , Charles sent him, and took him in deep.

From anyone else, this would have sounded ridiculous, and Erik would have laughed. He was thirty-two, after all, and while he had never highly prioritized sexual satisfaction, when he was in the mood for it he never had trouble obtaining it. 

But he knew Charles had the capability to make good on his promise.

Erik felt Charles searching in his mind, almost certain where he was going, feeling it out to be sure. But it wasn’t much more effort until Charles reached into the parts of his mind that were reacting to the stimulation (he had said he knew everything about Erik, after all). He applied a firm mental stroke. 

Erik slumped back onto his elbows. Charles’ fingers found the space behind his balls, and pressed, as he pulled off, sucking hard this time.

“Charles--” Erik croaked.

 _I love hearing your voice like that but try telling me this way_ , Charles sent him. 

_I want that, I want you to make me come--_

_Harder than you’ve ever come in your life?_

_Just back up your claim, Charles._

_I will, darling_ , Charles answered, smug, his fingers staying where they were, pressing, his mouth moving faster and tighter over Erik’s cock. He sent the vestiges of his own satisfaction to Erik, a hazy warmth, along with his approval of him (which resembled a soft gold), his admiration (blue), his simmering interest (a frisson of silver), and a persistent deep-red gleam of pure lust. 

Erik realized that Charles didn’t need to be physically stimulating him at all. He could simply reach into his mind and work him that way. The very thought of that capability, that power, made him tremble, but not with fear.

 _Oh but I enjoy this_ , Charles sent him, his thoughts somehow everywhere and intimate at once, nestling close to Erik’s mind, giving him goosebumps despite their warmth. _I want to touch you, I want to taste you like this. I’ve waited for it_. Charles paused to lick at the head of his cock. _It’s making me hard again_ , he noted, amused, sending Erik that feeling, a mirror of his own stimulated state. 

Erik’s interest was naturally piqued, his own desire ramped up by the irrefutable evidence of Charles’. Charles, in turn, gathered up that desire in his mind and drew from it, feeding it back to Erik, with care and enthusiasm. His joy and delight in the process was nearly palpable -- _Erik, feel that, feel what we’re doing. I’ve never--_

The fact that Charles had never achieved this with anyone else.... Erik slumped entirely on his back, arms akimbo, his fists curling tightly into the bedding. 

Charles spun the entwined feelings out in a wider circle in the connection between their minds: tenfold, a hundredfold, an order of magnitude broader. 

Their own private galaxy, infinite and unknowable yet completely made up of their essences, their very selves. 

While Erik floated in a universe as primally comforting as a warm sea, Charles caressed that area in his mind again, sending a shudder through him. He understood Charles was seeking out the very best way to touch him here, so intimate he might as well have been Erik’s own thoughts. In a sense, he was. 

Charles mouthed at Erik’s cock, tongue still wanting to taste him, to feel him, though he was focused now on his mind. With every nudge and stroking of Charles’ thoughts against Erik’s, the view changed, colors shifting, blooming in sparks, nebulas spinning out of the dark. Erik sensed Charles’ anticipation, his profound pleasure in observing Erik, in being able to do this to and with him.

Charles’ mind pressed against Erik’s in a slightly different area, sending a hard shudder through him; he gasped like he was coming up for air, blood pounding in his cock. The universe tilted in a sudden swoop. 

_There._ Charles’ triumph fed his excitement; just as quickly, however, he tamped something down in Erik’s mind, halting what Erik was sure was about to be an epic orgasm. 

_Charles!_

_I’m holding you off until we can do this together_ , Charles answered, his usually smooth and clear mental voice sounding more breathless. _It’ll be all the better for you having waited. Trust me_.

 _Hurry up, then_ , Erik replied. Charles sent him an image of his view, looking down at himself as he moved his hand from behind Erik’s balls to around his own cock. 

_I could bring you right to the edge and then deny you like that, over and over, take you back down, bring you up again, until you begged me for release. But you’d be completely at my mercy. I’d have total control._

Erik could hear how harsh his own breathing was; his skin was hot, despite his shivering. “Charles,” he gasped aloud.

 _I could do that now_. Charles was slowly stroking himself, teasing himself as well as Erik. Not teasing, exactly -- orchestrating. Conducting them. 

He nudged that area in Erik’s mind again, more gently to start this time, stroking it at the same pace he was stroking his cock. He gradually ramped up his speed -- Erik’s hands and forearms ached from his tight grip on the bedding, and he was aware of every bit of metal in the room, much of it gently rattling -- until Erik was wholly focused on anticipating the peak, chest heaving, almost forgetting about Charles’ plans until Charles tamped down the sensation again, like clamping off an artery. 

Groaning in dismay, Erik shuddered as Charles licked at his cock, and realized how much he must have been leaking. That fact was intensifying Charles’ own arousal, making him pull at himself a little faster. _Don’t even think about coming if I can’t_ , Erik thought.

Charles laughed aloud in a huff. _Hardly the point of this exercise_. 

_What is the point,_ Erik groused, not meaning it, Charles knowing he didn’t mean it. He stroked the spot in Erik’s mind again, firmly, almost masterfully as he was now getting used to it, and with Erik in his current state it didn’t take much to get him back to that level again, only squirming this time, desperate -- but Erik didn’t squirm, Erik didn’t get desperate--

 _You do_ , Charles sent him as he halted him, wicked for all that he was nearly panting, more and more of his energy going to holding himself off now so he could wait until Erik came.

 _I don’t want to miss yours when it starts_ , Charles sent him. _I’ll wait a bit, I’ll let yours set mine off like a chain reaction._

Charles’ own excitement at the idea tipped Erik over into near incoherence of word and thought, and then with a firm massaging of that spot in his mind he was only able to moan to Charles, not even in protest anymore, just in supplication.

 _Not yet, my dearest_ , Charles told him. How was he still able to even think? Charles, his miraculous mind-- It took him down yet again. The candlestick that had fallen earlier rattled and fell to the floor. 

Charles started stroking himself faster and harder now, letting Erik know he was doing it, but making it clear that Erik would still have to wait until Charles was ready. He nudged that spot in Erik’s mind at the same pace, faster-- faster-- then pressed, hard. 

Erik’s entire existence was, had always been, a wordless plea to Charles--

“Charles,” he gasped out. “Charles. Tell me I can--”

Although Charles didn’t need to say it, could have controlled all of it, there was his voice in Erik’s mind, as clear as if he were speaking aloud--

 _Erik. Come_.

Erik’s universe erupted, and Charles was there with him.

\-------

He was aware on some level of Charles sucking him down, of Charles shuddering through his own peak, twining his reaction with Erik’s; of every loose metal object in the room rattling, rising into the air, and then falling all at once, and emphatically. Charles’ laughter was a soft, breathless sound of amazement. 

\-------

“I feel much better now,” Charles said dreamily, with a sigh. Erik opened his eyes.

Charles was stretched out on his side by Erik, resting his chin in his hand, still naked. He smiled, a smile that was wicked, lazy, and affectionate all at once. 

“Yes,” Erik managed, his voice sounding strained and hoarse to himself. Everything now seemed unreal, too sharply delineated and yet oddly flat at the same time. Charles was no longer in his mind, and Erik reached out to put an arm over him, to at least touch him.

“Look at you,” Charles said fondly, “you’re a wreck.” He smoothed a lock of hair back from Erik’s hot, damp forehead. “You look like you’ve run a marathon.” 

Erik mock-glared at him, not expecting it to have any effect. “So do you.” Charles was flushed, his usually neat hair now sticking up wildly in all directions. His eyes were blazingly bright, his lips even pinker than usual. 

Charles leaned in and kissed him. Before Erik could respond properly, Charles was getting up, saying something about needing to clean himself up a bit. Erik sighed, but soon became glad for the privacy, as he had some trouble at first coordinating himself enough to move perpendicularly to get under the sheets.

Once he had, he laid there on his back, eyes closed, and heard Charles approaching. Before getting into bed, Charles bent and kissed his brow; Erik hummed briefly in response. Then Charles was under the sheets too, shifting Erik around onto his side until he was able to tuck in behind, an arm over him, face pressed to the back of his neck. 

Generally speaking, Erik had little interest in being clung to as he slept; it was uncomfortable, a nuisance. Charles, however…. 

“Could you get the light, please, Erik, there’s a love,” Charles murmured against his skin. Erik felt for the rocker switch of his desk lamp with his power and moved it to the off position.

“Charles,” he said.

“Yes, Erik.” Charles’ fingers stroked his skin gently, lightly.

“Could you…. In here,” he said, touching his temple; almost immediately, he felt Charles’ presence in his thoughts, waiting for whatever he was about to communicate. 

_I just wanted to say good night,_ Erik held in his mind for him. _Well, that’s not entirely true._

Charles waited, curious. Erik took a breath, calming his own trepidation. _Look deeper. ...Look as much as you like._

Charles had looked into his mind before, but his own deliberateness in this particular act was something else altogether. Erik went still under the strain of his own vulnerability, waiting for Charles to examine his thoughts, most specifically, how he felt about Charles: he’d never met anyone like Charles before, hadn’t even known someone like him could exist; he might find Charles exasperating, but he wanted him, on a visceral level, in a way that made anything he’d felt for anyone before pale in comparison. He’d felt connected to Charles, for better or worse, from the moment he’d wrapped his arms around him to pull him out of the water, and plunged into his mind, to save him.

Charles finally spoke, aloud this time, both hands busy with turning Erik toward him, raising himself up over him. “My feelings are… very similar to yours.” 

Erik didn’t sag in relief, exactly. As he relaxed, Charles bent down to kiss him, a soft press of warm lips in the dark, and Erik felt and sensed him breaking into a delighted smile despite himself, with a little huff of laughter, a touch of wonder in it. 

“Yes, I know they are,” Erik murmured, grinning, sliding a hand over Charles’ back. 

Charles laughed aloud, settling in again, an arm over Erik. _Good night, Erik darling_ , he sent, mental voice full of exasperation and fondness, and after all, something more than that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Liz and Julia for reading this over, and special thanks to Paige for her invaluable assistance!


End file.
